The Letter
by lovelyblackheart
Summary: Matt hates mail, but will that change when a certain letter arrives?


**Disclaimer**: I sadly, do not own Death Note, or the characters in it.

**A/N **_I don't even know how I came up with this. And halfway through, I read someone else's story about mail, and I felt unoriginal. But theirs was emails...so not really...anyways...I am going to apologize because I made Matt use pretty crappy insults. Like fuck wad. SORRY!!! But I do like this story...even if the beginning is pointless and stupid. The end is cute so w/e. I 3 Matt (and Mels too)._

* * *

I had never really understood why people enjoyed getting mail. And when I say mail, I mean snail mail. The solid stuff made of paper, the one you can hold in your hand.

Big whoop-de-fucking-doo.

E-mail was faster, easier to send, more affordable and you didn't have to leave home to do it. No one else had their dirty hands on it, and you knew where it had been. It hasn't been dropped in a mailbox that is filled with who-knows what, it was not in a car that has been who-knows where, no carrier bag, no accidental drop in dog shit, no nothing.

It is nice, safe and clean on your computer. I don't even like newspapers; I'd prefer to just check out their website. I didn't have to pay for the paper, no annoying 12 year old delivery service who wants tips, I know it has not been put together in some stranger's home. It's not like I cared that much about the world anyways.

The internet was safe. It was comfortable. I knew where to get information, I knew how to hack, I knew how to stay protected, and I knew everything there was about it.

But the way _he_ contacted me wasn't though the safe home of the internet. It was the postal service that I hated, and I wouldn't have noticed the plain white letter in the mailbox until I had come back from getting a box of cigarettes and if the corner was not sticking out of the mailbox it was in. I never got any mail, so I never checked.

Another thing I hate about it. _Mail._

Guess why that sounds familiar. My name doesn't even show up on baby naming websites for fuck's sake. The closest you get it Maile, Hawaiian for shrub or vine. Pronounced Miley.

Anyways, I grabbed the letter (with a gloved hand) and took it inside. No return address.

For some reason I decided to open it.

_Dear Matt,_

_For some reason, if you decide to open this- and for fuck's sake do- I am doing well. You are probably mad at me –as you should be- but this was something I didn't want to drag you into. Even if you wouldn't have been dragged, more like a follow behind me like a puppy._

_No, you are not a dog to me, you are a friend. You just sometimes remind me of a puppy._

_I don't even know why I am writing a letter._

_That is a lie, I know why. If I sent you an e-mail, I would check it daily to see if you replied back. This way I cannot know anything about you. Because if I do, I would want to come back. So this way is harsh, unfair, and totally acceptable._

_Don't hate me for what I've done._

_Love, forever_

_M_

To be honest, the first thing I read was the _Love, forever M_ part. Since I am being honest here, I re-read it about ten more times.

_Okay_, a bit more.

I stared at it for about seven minutes, alright? They guy hadn't contacted me in how long, and then he ends a letter with stating he will always love me? Let me imagine the love he wrote was the _same_ I had been feeling since I was..._hell_...I don't even know how old.

_Fuck._

No return address.

I read the letter (this time, not just the _Love, forever M_ part) and threw it on the ground. _Fuck wad_! He even made sure I couldn't respond back. And he made me sound like a _puppy_!

Ass hole!

Jerk!

Bitch!

Whore!

I picked up the letter and read it again. God I am such a _tool_! I put it down on the coffee table and stared at it.

Aggravated, I grabbed my coat and went outside. Mello made me so frustrated that I had to walk it off. _Outside_.

**_Me_**. _Outside_. Because of that _dick_.

I broke into a jog.

* * *

I sat down on the couch again, shirt drenched in sweat. I didn't care about the fact that the couch was going to smell like out-of-shape-Matt-who-just-went-on-a-frustrated-run tomorrow. I didn't care about the fact that my body was already starting to ache. I didn't care about the light flickering causing the world to seem out of focus.

I cared about the boy who had sent me a letter. The strong willed, vibrant, rude, smart, loving, horrible, breakable, angry, kind, chocolate addicted, destructive, rash, ambitious, jealous Mello.

I picked up the letter and sniffed it. It faintly smelt like chocolate.

I smiled.

The letter was folded back into the envelope, and put carefully on the shelf next to a plain black t-shirt and on top of a test that was marked 98%. His handwriting from the past few years had not changed. Perfect cursive sprawled evenly across the pages, turning slightly messy as the end was coming closer and his excitement made him write faster.

I left room for some more letters, I knew the boy was impulsive and would probably send more.

I would just have to wait for more letters.

Maybe next time it would have a return address.


End file.
